Lovers In Captivity
by SpreadTheWord
Summary: Skin skims, breaths break and just one last time lips catch in the hopes that there would be no tomorrow. [ChaseCameron meth sex songfic : Music includes that of Ima Robot, the Dresden Dolls and the Bravery : NOW COMPLETE]
1. Do

**A/N: I love this song and it, for some reason, reminds me of messed up Chameron sex, so ya, welcome to meth!sex the song fic. The song's by Ima Robot, a little L.A. band that nobody's ever heard of.**

**x X x X x X x X x X x**

_A bridge of love  
a feast of hands  
pictures on fire  
the act of god  
true desire_

Heart stops.

Eyes blind.

Breath catches.

Lips close on skin and lips and nothing else matters.

This shouldn't be happening.

You know it. She knows it, or at least she did when she was sane.

It doesn't matter now.

Her hands touch yours, intertwines for just a moment as you both gasp for breath. And then it starts all over again. Touch breaks only to rejoin and your lips find hers once again.

_Makes fake love  
down with hearts  
and tattooed blood  
cold freeze frame  
of the pain_

You're downing in her breath, her touch, in her. You're dying as you're living; you're choking on her sweet taste.

Her nails dig into your skin, into the mattress beneath you, threatening to tear the thin sheets. You can feel your blood dripping down your back, its warmth lost among your sweat.

You can't breathe when you look at her, when her eyes find yours.

You can't breathe at all.

_Plots of Indians  
a stage of props  
a wounded girl  
hold your thoughts  
hold my hand  
hold your man_

Collapse in your lover's arms, a whispering wind threatening the silence already broken by your parched breaths. Reality seems so far away, past her dimly lit apartment, away from Princeton, away from all of this.

Truth is nothing more than a memory.

There was a time you saw this girl as nothing more than doctor, sleek and sharp, another robot in a white coat there for you to co-existence with.

My God, what happened? What went wrong? What went right? Why's her skin so cold against yours? Was she still there, inside that broken shell? Had the drugs hollowed her so? Why were you letting her do this, this double homicide of the heart? She's kissing you again. Why don't you stop her?

Why can't you?

_Wait for the time  
we will ripen for this kill  
wait for your time  
you will ripen for me_

Is this love or lust, touch or tear, sex or rape? You feel exposed beside her. You want to get out, but God, you can't leave her. She's alive here, now, in this moment. Dare you let her die? Are you scared for her or yourself? Are you really that afraid being alone?

You've been feeling more alone lately than you ever have before. The future's scary and you're all by yourself.

Again.

Was this desperation or was this hope?

Destruction or worship?

Anarchy or prayer?

Was this love?

_Am I draggin' you down?  
Am I breakin' your heart?  
Is it killin' you?  
Are you fallin' apart?_

You can't get her hands off your skin long after they've left. Her touch won't leave you; her skin won't break like yours. You don't want to kill her like she's killing you now.

Maybe you're already dead.

You're on the ground, down for the count, heart shattered, will broken.

You're already broken.

_What's your name?  
I know you from somewhere  
Have you been hurt?  
What's the dirt?_

This girl's no one you know. She's foreign and dangerous and spins your faults of glass and holds them a bit too tight.

She's so cold, and no matter how much you put your skin to hers, she won't warm.

You can taste the meth, the regret, the dried blood on her lips.

Is it yours?

Is it your fault?

_Who's your god  
your daddy or me?  
Death or pain  
now what's it gonna be?_

This is insane. This is deadly, dangerous, fallen, broken, lost, passionate, and beautiful.

My God, it seems so wrong.

_Me and the wrath of an empty sun  
nightmare chambers  
and no ones none  
I'm gonna walk  
out in the street life  
I'm gonna walk  
down to the shore_

Skin skims, breaths break and just one last time lips catch in the hopes that there would be no tomorrow.

_Now gonna ask you  
what you're thinkin'  
anymore  
wait for your time  
you will ripen for me_

She collapses beside you and you can't tell if she's laughing or crying.

_Am I dragging' you down?  
Am I breakin' your heart?  
Is it killin' you slowly?_

All you got was what you wanted.

_Are you fallin' apart?  
I want you callin'_

Are you so lost as not to know that you're alone?

Are you so alone?

_Am I draggin' you down?_

**x X x X x X x X x X x**

**Beta-ed by my amazing friend Katie during sixth period. Not only did she edit this with a completely straight face, but even managed to hide this from the psycho psychology sub. Now if that isn't love...**

Comments would be amazing.


	2. No

**A/N: A few days ago a couple friends of mine were talking about this fic (during our billionth sex-education class...my GOD) and decided Cammie needed a chapter too!**

**Running with the song-fic theme, this is Coin-Operated Boy by the Dresden Dolls so, ya, review if you like.**

_Coin-operated boy  
sitting on the shelf_  
_He is just a toy  
But I turn him on_  
_and he comes to life  
automatic joy_  
_That is why I want  
_

You can still feel him beside you, in the warm curve in your sheets where he once lay. He must have been gone for hours, but you can still sense him, smell him.

It was the first thing you ever noticed about him, his sweet boy smell of soap and sweat and sunlight.

The second thing you noticed was his hands, big and warm, so nimble with needles and knives but fumbled when it came to you. You saw the awkward insecurity, the faint inability to say no.

That and the hands were the last things you'd ever forget.

_Made of plastic and elastic  
He is rugged and long lasting  
Who could ever, ever ask for more?  
Love without complications galore_

Sitting up in your castle of worn cotton sheets, you don't feel exposed, not here, not now.

You want to go and shower, wash his eyes from your skin, all that he's seen and all that you'd done. You're still shaking, shivering as sweat works its way down the curves of your body, bare and lovely, hair frazzled and skin soft. This is how you're meant to be seen, but all you want to do is hide.

It was so simple. Live and love. Don't care. For once in your stupid orderly ordinary life, don't give a shit.

For someone seeking to abandon your strings you sure are looking like a marionette.

_Many shapes and weights to choose from  
I will never leave my bedroom  
I will never cry at night again  
wrap my arms around him and pretend_

His taste haunts your lips, a faint copper tingeing your breath. The harsh spray of the shower rains down on tender skin, un-bruised and yet so sensitive to the water's unsympathetic touch.

There's dried blood beneath you fingernails.

His blood.

What else did you draw?

The thought's haunting.

_Coin-operated boy  
all the other real ones that I destroy  
cannot hold a candle_  
_To my new boy and I'll  
never let him go_  
_and I'll never be alone_  
_not with my coin-operated boy_

He's just an object really, a plaything of a broken child bored with her usual toys; one with the nasty habit of breaking men without even trying. You forget how lovely skin and beautiful bones can blind a man. You forget they never see past it, see you.

They never bother.

All this boy had bothered to get past was the clothing, under the blouse and beyond the glass walls protecting you from yourself.

Oh, how weak your defenses were.

_This bridge was written_  
_to make you feel smitten  
with my sad picture_  
_of girl getting bitter_

The bar soap feels chalky against the soft skin of a protected life. It burns as you rub yourself raw, trying desperately to scrape the scent of sex from your being.

The dried blood is softens and runs down your fingers and arms, pooling in you cupped palms. You scrub there, hard, tearing the skin.

You want him off you. You want his ghost to leave you. You just want to be alone.

_Can you extract me_  
_from my plastic fantasy?  
I didn't think so_  
_but I'm still convincible_

Your blood is darker than his, staining your nails and the cracks of you tired palm. You make a fist, wishing it to stop, to contain it and its horror.

Rouge slips between you fingers and over you knuckles, white from want, escaping enclosure like lies from your all-too eloquent lips.

You want to run. Instead you fall.

_  
Will you persist_  
_even after I bet you  
a million dollars that I'll never love you?_

Sitting on the floor of your shower you wonder; wonder why you're shaking and why you're wishing and why you never fly with your broken wings.

You wonder why rain never feels this good._  
_

_Will you persist_  
_even after I kiss you  
goodbye for the last time?_

You wonder what he's doing now, if he's okay. You're sure as hell not. You wonder if you love him even though you know you don't.

You wonder why you only ask questions you know the answers to._  
_

_Will you keep on trying to prove it?  
I'm dying to lose it..._

Have you gone crazy? Are you still in there? You feel so empty yet so alive, like fire and blackbirds and peace, wars and wildflowers. You're fading and wilting and dying and a million other words for worthless.

Every inch of you's deluded._  
_

_I want it.  
I want you.  
I want a coin-operated boy._

But you don't want to feel worthless. You don't want a death wish of life, to feel like a lover that forgot to care. You want his skin to yours all over again and yet you're terrified of him.

You want something real and all you got was plastic or paper.

_And if I had a star to wish on  
for my life, I can't imagine  
any flesh and blood could be his match  
I can even take him in the bath_

Stepping from your shower the cool of apartment mixes with the steam that once surrounded you. You're raw now, still shaking, still naked, still beautiful, still broken. Why do you feel so different?

Someday this high will wear and this hope will die, but until that day, you are nothing more than a paper doll left to a fragile lover.

How will you face him?

_Coin-operated boy  
he may not be real_  
_experienced with girls  
but I know he feels_  
_like a boy should feel  
Isn't that the point?_

The towel feels course against your skin. You don't bother to hold it too tight. When you do get around to dressing you'll cover every inch you can, away from him, away from the world.

_That is why I want _  
_a coin-operated boy  
_

There's a belt buckle on the floor, too big to be one of yours. It must be his. A sick, comic image of the poised Robert Chase stumbling out of your apartment fills the air.

Poor baby.

The buckle's cool in your palm. Maybe you'll keep it.

_with his pretty coin-operated voice  
saying that he loves me_  
_that he's thinking of me  
straight and to the point  
_

You really are so lost as to want something so worthless?

_That is why I want  
a coin-operated boy._

**x X x X x X x X x X x**

**Edited by Jesus (a.k.a. Brian) during lunch and (yet again) sixth period. (Katie helped!)**

**Now that I've extended this (skills!) I kinda want it to be a three chapter fic ('cause I'm OCD like that) and I've got a song and a rough idea, so ya, imput would be nice. (Drop a piano on my head of that sounds like a bad idea...or just tell me. Whatever works for you.)**

**Happy that I continued? Pissed? Or are you going Switzerland on me? Care to feed that ever-hungry purple comment monster at the bottom of your screen?**


	3. Harm

**A/N: Last chapter. Last song. This is Tyrant by the Bravery. Thanks for reading. :D**

**x X x X x X x X x X x**

_Every time you come around  
there's a bouquet for me  
a corsage of promises  
and I am pinned_

It's like it didn't happen.

It's like she doesn't know.

It's like she can't see.

The Ativan in your pocket feels like a lie to your fingertips. Your rationality feels like a fault. You shouldn't be so calm. You shouldn't know how to react.

It makes you feel like scum, knowing how to put girls you break back together again.

It's like she can't see how you're falling apart right along side her.

_Like a butterfly on a card  
I'm naked and I'm scarred  
And you're so perfect to me_

Last night you stumbled home at some obscene hour, a mess of blood and some dirty, your hair tangled and clothes not on quite right.

And now?

You aren't a mess anymore. You're put together and professional and you even managed to get that all-telling scent off sex of your skin.

But you still can't look her in the eye.

You still can't see an inch of her skin without wanting to see the rest.

You can't get her out of your head.

You can't get out.

_Violent ties with hands like a steeple  
Tell me lies with a tongue like a needle  
I let the words shoot down my throat_

You press the pills to her palm and tell her how it shouldn't happen again, tell her it didn't suck.

It shouldn't.

It didn't.

You walk away and leave her alone one last time.

_I learn these words of wisdom _  
_from your tyrant mouth_

She once told you how your hate was toxic. You told her to stay away.

Why couldn't you take your advice?

I'm stuck just like a pig  
Roasting in your eyes  
I'll believe anything that you want

Driving home you listen to women on the radio bicker over how thin is too thin and which Hollywood starlet is going to rehab next. You could change the station, but there's a vague comfort that comes with those who live emptier lives than your own.

You want to call her, to apologize, to tell her that even if it shouldn't happen again, it could, but you know she doesn't want to hear it. She doesn't want you. She never did and probably never will.

It's killing you to hope.

Paris Hilton fills the airwaves and you switch to static._  
_

_You gotta teach me how to live  
Cause you make me wanna die  
You took it all, now you're all I've got_

You apartment smells like bad cologne and fake-scented flower air-fresheners. It's covered with old pizza boxes and books and clothes you're too lazy to wash or have washed. You work your way over to the fridge.

Old Chinese food, peanut butter, a flat bottle of Pepsi and some smashed-up pie that you're never going to eat greets you.

Welcome home, Robert.

How was hell?

Words of wisdom  
_from your tyrant mouth_

You shower carefully, the soap stinging the crescent cuts in your back.

Your skin's dry and cracking and you really need a haircut but don't feel like making small talk with a barber for a half hour. There's a sore on your lip and suddenly you're scared as hell.

You stare into the mirror, her words ringing through your ears.

The difference between zero and like zero chance of contracting a death sentence has never been more clear.

_There's noises in my head  
Just noises in my head_

Her face swims in your memory, threatening your sanity.

Your bed feels empty and your night seems quiet and you want to go out and drink too much and feel like crap tomorrow, but hey, how much worse can tomorrow be than today?

You're just a noise in my head  
I'll drown you out  
And I'll bury all the noises  
From your hateful little mouth

You're predisposed to alcoholism. Hell, you can already be confirmed as a drunk on those Xeroxed questionnaires in the waiting room by the elevator, third floor. You do stupid things. You get drunk, screw pre-disposure.

Why not throw it all away, just one last time?

Words of wisdom  
_From your tyrant mouth  
_

All you need is answers.

Too bad you'll never get them.

_Words of wisdom_

**x X x X x X x X x X x**

**Another chapter edited by the ever-fabulous Katie.**

**Comments would be amazing.**


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